life spontaneously arising
I picked up my stuff from CB's. I was nervous about it, and as I drove the million blocks to her place out in SE Portland, (a so-familiar route, route well traveled by me for two years, daily) I noticed a comfortable familiarity that felt almost terrifying. I felt, for just a moment, like my leaving had been a dream and that I was really on my way home to my house with CB, to my normal life. I felt like I could just drive up and find everything as it had been -- like I could just walk back into that life. And I was terrified that I would get to CB's and realize that I *wanted* to walk back into that life. Fuck.
But when I got there, thank god, the spell was broken. I walked in the house and it smelled like stale cigarettes because she's been smoking in the house ever since I left. I hate it. I hate it so much and when I walked in and smelled it, the spell was broken and I remembered why I'd left and I felt just hollow and sad. She wasn't home, which was a relief, so I grabbed my stuff and left.
She called, though, soon after I got back home and we ended up talking for almost an hour. This time it was good, though we both cried through most of it, we actually just talked about mundane things. Life, work, school. It felt so good and I realized how much I've missed her and how much I care about her. It was a good conversation and, having had it, I feel the seeds for a future friendship are sowed. I also know we're probably going to go down before we go up anymore, and that's ok too. I just have hope now for our future friendship. And that feels good.
I had to leave as soon as we got off the phone (quickly blowing nose and washing face, hoping to stamp out the remnants of my long crying) -- because I'd gotten sort of bamboozled into having dinner with a couple of people. I was set up, actually, by a coworker. Set up to be on a date with *her* under the guise of having me meet a friend of hers who is a mediator and who could give me some career advice. I've had my suspicions about this woman's intentions toward me and when she fanagled this dinner for the three of us, I definitely thought it was fishy. I mean, all she needed to do was give me the guy's contact information so I could do some networking. Instead she arranged a dinner for all three of us?
So I met up with them at Bush Garden, a very lovely sushi place downtown (though, where I come from, Bush Gardens is an amusement park...) -- we had our own private room, sitting on tatami mats with our feet under a sunken table -- odd and utterly Japanese. I should say "utterly something out of a movie" b/c I have no idea what is utterly Japanese, only what it might look like in a movie. It was a completely surreal night -- out with a man who had plenty of money to spend and who wanted to treat. He ordered us sake to share -- then more sake -- then appetizers -- then the food -- then mochi -- then tea -- the ease and whimsy of his ordering more and more of whatever he wanted added to the dreamy quality of the night. So nice to sit back and let someone sweet and awkward and "flush," as SK would say, just take care of the whole night in a sort of magic way. Yeah.
But it was clear that I was on a date with my coworker, who sat between us and claimed to be there as the facilitator for our meeting. I felt from the beginning that it was somewhat staged and that is what I still believe. We all had a lovely time, the conversation was sparkling and fun and completely unrelated to any of the heavy things causing stress in my life... yet... as the night wore on, I started realizing that every interesting exchange, every laugh, every light and engaging moment was sending some kind of signal to my coworker (who I'll call Grey). And the guy was clearly encouraging the sweet little thing between us that he thought he saw forming -- saying things like "oh, you two have a real ease in the way you relate. It's sweet." Later, as we were walking from the restaurant, looking for an open coffeeshop, he kept falling back, moving away, as though giving Grey and I some space to be alone. I kept, then, pulling him back in, wedging him between us.
Finally, first chance I got alone with her, I called it out. Said I felt like we were on a date and told her I needed to be clear that, while I was having a really good time, I did not want to be on a date, that I was involved with someone else and that I didn't want my good time to be misread. She seemed to take it in stride, and the night went on from there.
Coolest thing -- there was a guy playing accordian and singing Italian opera at the coffeeshop. He looked angry and unappreciated, but his music was lovely, if a little loud. We yelled out our last conversations over the staccato blasts of accordian music, then, all of us sleepy, we headed out. SK called while I was on my way to the car and I ended my night driving home talking to sweet little SK, all the way over in Tasmania. What a long, unplanned, strange, wonderful day I've had. Jesus I'm exhausted.
But when I got there, thank god, the spell was broken. I walked in the house and it smelled like stale cigarettes because she's been smoking in the house ever since I left. I hate it. I hate it so much and when I walked in and smelled it, the spell was broken and I remembered why I'd left and I felt just hollow and sad. She wasn't home, which was a relief, so I grabbed my stuff and left.
She called, though, soon after I got back home and we ended up talking for almost an hour. This time it was good, though we both cried through most of it, we actually just talked about mundane things. Life, work, school. It felt so good and I realized how much I've missed her and how much I care about her. It was a good conversation and, having had it, I feel the seeds for a future friendship are sowed. I also know we're probably going to go down before we go up anymore, and that's ok too. I just have hope now for our future friendship. And that feels good.
I had to leave as soon as we got off the phone (quickly blowing nose and washing face, hoping to stamp out the remnants of my long crying) -- because I'd gotten sort of bamboozled into having dinner with a couple of people. I was set up, actually, by a coworker. Set up to be on a date with *her* under the guise of having me meet a friend of hers who is a mediator and who could give me some career advice. I've had my suspicions about this woman's intentions toward me and when she fanagled this dinner for the three of us, I definitely thought it was fishy. I mean, all she needed to do was give me the guy's contact information so I could do some networking. Instead she arranged a dinner for all three of us?
So I met up with them at Bush Garden, a very lovely sushi place downtown (though, where I come from, Bush Gardens is an amusement park...) -- we had our own private room, sitting on tatami mats with our feet under a sunken table -- odd and utterly Japanese. I should say "utterly something out of a movie" b/c I have no idea what is utterly Japanese, only what it might look like in a movie. It was a completely surreal night -- out with a man who had plenty of money to spend and who wanted to treat. He ordered us sake to share -- then more sake -- then appetizers -- then the food -- then mochi -- then tea -- the ease and whimsy of his ordering more and more of whatever he wanted added to the dreamy quality of the night. So nice to sit back and let someone sweet and awkward and "flush," as SK would say, just take care of the whole night in a sort of magic way. Yeah.
But it was clear that I was on a date with my coworker, who sat between us and claimed to be there as the facilitator for our meeting. I felt from the beginning that it was somewhat staged and that is what I still believe. We all had a lovely time, the conversation was sparkling and fun and completely unrelated to any of the heavy things causing stress in my life... yet... as the night wore on, I started realizing that every interesting exchange, every laugh, every light and engaging moment was sending some kind of signal to my coworker (who I'll call Grey). And the guy was clearly encouraging the sweet little thing between us that he thought he saw forming -- saying things like "oh, you two have a real ease in the way you relate. It's sweet." Later, as we were walking from the restaurant, looking for an open coffeeshop, he kept falling back, moving away, as though giving Grey and I some space to be alone. I kept, then, pulling him back in, wedging him between us.
Finally, first chance I got alone with her, I called it out. Said I felt like we were on a date and told her I needed to be clear that, while I was having a really good time, I did not want to be on a date, that I was involved with someone else and that I didn't want my good time to be misread. She seemed to take it in stride, and the night went on from there.
Coolest thing -- there was a guy playing accordian and singing Italian opera at the coffeeshop. He looked angry and unappreciated, but his music was lovely, if a little loud. We yelled out our last conversations over the staccato blasts of accordian music, then, all of us sleepy, we headed out. SK called while I was on my way to the car and I ended my night driving home talking to sweet little SK, all the way over in Tasmania. What a long, unplanned, strange, wonderful day I've had. Jesus I'm exhausted.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 12:02 AM
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